Page 80 of Sometimes You Stay

The ambling two-lane roads of the island carried him south, past rolling hills of alfalfa and potatoes and farmhouses in the blues, reds, and oranges of the island sunrise. The noon rays overhead turned yellow fields of canola more brilliant than the sun itself.

Joe barked and spun around in his seat until Finn buried his hand into his thick coat. “Easy, boy. We’re almost there.”

As he pulled up to the curb outside his parents’ home, he saw his dad standing in the front yard, a hand on his hip and his head cocked at a strange angle.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today, son,” he called as soon as Finn hopped out of the truck.

“Thought I’d come for a little visit. That okay?”

“Of course. But if we’d known you were coming, your mom wouldn’t have gone to the ladies’ tea at the church, and you wouldn’t be stuck with just me.”

Finn offered a half smile. “I brought some companionshiptoo.” He let Joe out of the truck, and the dog bounded across the yard, spinning circles around his dad.

His dad held up the garden hose he’d been using to water his wife’s flowers, and Joe bit at the slow stream like it was lunch. “Good to see some things haven’t changed.” He chuckled as he held his arms wide for a hug.

Finn stepped into the embrace, the force of his dad’s clap against his back setting something loose and shoring up something else.

“Where’s that pretty girl we met? She didn’t come with you? Your mom liked her, you know.”

Finn nodded. “I liked her too. But she left.”

“You run her off?” His dad absolutely meant it in jest, but the words still made something inside him ache.

“I hope not.” He didn’t even try for a smile. “I asked her to stay.”

The jovial grin that was so much a part of his dad’s face dimmed, and he bent over slowly to turn off the water. “And she left anyway? I thought she really liked you.”

He lifted one shoulder. She had liked him. Just not enough.

“Sit with me for a little while.” His dad groaned as he lowered himself to the top of the three steps leading to the white front door. They’d chosen a cute bungalow the color of bricks, just one story so he didn’t have to navigate the stairs. They’d been in the house more than eight years, and somehow, it still didn’t feel like their home to Finn. The green farmhouse beside the red barn was where he always pictured them.

Maybe because sometimes he still felt like he was just watching over things while his parents were on holiday.

“You want to talk about her?”

When his dad was settled, Finn dropped down next to him and watched Joe find a shady spot in the grass to roll around. “Not really.” Of course, that didn’t stop him from thinking—or dreaming—about her. “I thought maybe I’d spend the night, though.”

Finn studied his dad’s reaction, looking for any sign of disappointment. Instead, his dad’s smile grew. “Well, that’s new. You haven’t spent a night away from the old house since you took over.” Then his eyes narrowed, his bushy gray eyebrows bunching together in the middle of his forehead. “Is everything all right? Is this about your girlfriend leaving?”

“She wasn’t my girlfriend.”

His dad made a sound deep in his throat that said he begged to differ.

Finn pushed on before his dad could argue the point. “Do you remember Milo McGinniss?”

“’Course I do. We were neighbors most of my life. He sold his property and moved to the mainland years ago. What made you think of him?”

“I know ... I just...” Finn folded his hands before him, resting his forearms on his knees and taking a deep breath. Cretia had gotten him into the habit of voicing his inside processing—or at least thinking about it like that. But considering it and actually doing it required entirely different muscle groups. And the muscles he needed to pluck up the nerve to speak had atrophied somewhere along the line.

“Son?” His dad clapped a hand on the back of his shoulder. “You can tell me anything.”

This was the side of his dad that he’d known most of his life. Encouraging. Kind. Caring. It just didn’t line up with his memory of that day in the barn—which was somehowso much easier to believe. He’d heard once that character was what you did when no one was watching. And Finn had always figured that true feelings were what you said about someone when they couldn’t hear you. Or—in the case of Cretia’s trolls—what they wouldn’t say to your face.

Cretia could knock them down with a simple block button. Finn couldn’t exactly block his dad. But if he knew the truth, then maybe he’d know what he had to do to truly earn his dad’s respect.

Closing his eyes, he opened his mouth and prayed the words would make sense. “I was about twenty, I think, and I was doing chores in the barn one morning. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you and Milo walked in, and I heard him tell you that I couldn’t handle the business. That I was going to run it into the ground and ruin our family’s legacy.”

With the truth finally out there, Finn held his breath.

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